


A promise of forever

by WendigoBaby



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Happy, Introspection, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Power Couple, Short & Sweet, vague sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 23:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10932621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendigoBaby/pseuds/WendigoBaby
Summary: Alec starts to understand why Shadowhunters wear gold at weddings.He’s found his home and he’s found his heart and finally, he belongs somewhere, with someone.





	A promise of forever

Some late mornings feel like they belong in romantic stories, full of dramatic confessions, heartache and breath-taking conclusions. This is not one of those mornings; instead, it’s a halcyon thing set on the summer cusp. While the air is warm and humid, the rain softly pattering over rooftops still holds a certain chill. A film of water makes the world look clean, windows and cars shimmering in the sun peeking in and out from behind clouds, golden rays reflecting against puddles nested in the cracks of New York streets.

 

The clock is nearing the 10 a.m. mark, when Alec transfers the last pancake onto the already high-stacked, indulgent plate. There’s also freshly cut strawberries and maple syrup alongside a French press full of freshly brewed coffee. The muted music from the radio melts into his skin as Alec hums along to random notes, bare feet quiet on the kitchen floor, his hair mussed up and his face a home to dark stubble that he didn’t bother with shaving. 

 

As Alec pours the bitter-sweet coffee into two mugs, there are steps near the door, then a warm hand at his lower back and even warmer lips pressed into his shoulder. A shiver runs through his skin, leaving behind goosebumps all the way down his arms and his bare chest; previous hours come back to mind, images hazy like half-developed polaroid pictures.

 

It was much earlier when they woke up, skin against skin, tangled in thin sheets and in each other, a want thrumming in their veins. There was no rush – at first kisses slow and wet and deep, kisses that lit fires along Alec’s spine and made Magnus hum with delight, kisses that left their mouths tingling and red. Then, hands pressed against hipbones and heavy breathing laced with laughter as Alec shifted himself into Magnus’ lap; it felt so good, to have Magnus so close, to have his arms around his waist as they moved together, a slow and steady trickle of heady pleasure rolling through their bodies.

 

Afterwards, they stayed in bed a little longer, a little more sweaty and with bones heavy with satisfaction. They talked in pieces, words substituted by fingers dancing across skin and noises, nothing substantial, silence just as comfortable as words. Yet, they couldn’t bum around all day, so when Magnus had to pick up a work-related call that popped their post-sex bubble, Alec occupied the shower, leaving Magnus to do the same while he went to prepare them breakfast.

 

Magnus’ hair is swept messily to the side and slightly damp when Alec cards his fingers through it and presses in for another kiss, a close-mouthed little thing tasting of peppermint . The goatee tickles against the ridge of his upper lip and when Alec pulls back, he stares for a moment, as there’s something so homely about Magnus sans his dark make up, something that makes him look softer and much more human, something that makes Alec want to kiss him again and he does exactly that. It never feels enough, to press his mouth against every centimeter of skin on Magnus’ body and still be starved for more. 

 

“Those for me?” Magnus asks, tilting his head towards the steaming pancakes with a mirthful smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, his nose bumping against Alec’s as they stand close, pulled together like magnets and unable to leave each other’s space. 

 

Alec lifts himself onto the counter island and sits cross-legged, a grin settled across his face. “I might share if you’ll be nice.” He pushes the large plate towards Magnus and they both pick their portions, piling on enough pancakes for half an army. 

 

“I’m always nice.” Magnus says as he takes his first bite and after a moment of silence and a pointed eyebrow raise from Alec, he purses his lips in consideration, stern in contrast with his stuffed cheek. They share a glance, resulting in laughter and a roll of brown eyes. “Okay, I’m nice _most_ of the time.” 

 

Alec has his plate resting dangerously on his knee and Magnus sits at the edge of a stool with his ankles crossed. They don’t bother with full cutlery, instead picking at the food with forks sticky with syrup while they talk about work and exchange previously heard gossip. While Magnus animatedly tells the story of Catarina’s last funny patient encounter, Alec’s mind drifts, only half-registering the words.

 

The rain keeps falling, Alec is warm and sated, his mind hazy at the edges and his body feeling full even without the food that coats his tongue with a sugar-sweet gauze. There’s spots of gold light dancing across Magnus’ sternum as he shifts to rest his elbow against the cabinet top, before swiping his fingers across his lower lip. Alec sighs, sips his coffee, just shy of burning his tongue. 

 

He’s been thinking lately, snagging his attention on daydreams and details that he never noticed before. When they work at home, Magnus in his favorite armchair with his feet up on an ottoman and books floating all around him, Alec curled into the couch surrounded by papers, he looks up, just to admire Magnus for a moment, take in his focused expression and the way he fiddles with the jewelry on his fingers, especially the one on his ring finger, twisting and turning it relentlessly to the tune of his thoughts. It draws attention, makes Alec consider how a gold band would look against Magnus’ skin.

 

In boring meetings at the Institute, he doodles – it starts off with flowers, roses and gardenias, something mindless just to pass time, shapes and lines and words that don’t make much sense, but before he knows it, there are cat eyes staring up at him from the page and _Alexander Lightwood-Bane_ is scribbled in the margin in his own handwriting. He keeps that page tucked into the back of his notebook, strangely sentimental.

 

It gets worse – the idea never leaves him, but instead accompanies his every day, strangely pleasant and comforting. It makes him pull the golden suit jacket out from the back of his closet, the bitter memories lingering along the edges of the sleeves, but there’s something else now. Alec starts to understand why Shadowhunters wear gold at weddings. 

 

When he first realizes he wants to marry Magnus, it startles him, only for different reasons than most people, probably. Not because it’s a lifelong commitment and a huge milestone, but because he never thought he’d be allowed to see it as a possibility, of being with a man - out in the world, proud and present. But it is real, it is visceral, it is on the horizon, because they are in love that feels like a bottomless sea. A couple of years back, he would’ve thought that since Shadowhunters die young why bother, that he’s not allowed to have love, that it’s going to bring more grief than anything worthwhile. A couple of years back, he would’ve ran from himself and settled for a loveless life, a marriage that was nothing but a lie to keep other people happy. 

 

Now, he’s eating breakfast on a Saturday morning with the man he would give his life for, a man he would go down on one knee for this very moment if only he had a ring in his pocket, a man that is his future, no matter what life brings. He’s found his home and he’s found his heart and finally, he belongs somewhere, with someone.

 

“Alec? Are you with me?” 

 

At the sound of Magnus’ voice, Alec blinks rapidly, bringing the world back into focus. Everything is muted, like his head’s underwater and he’s just surfacing; the coffee he’s holding is dangerously close to spilling over his lap until he tips it back straight with a sheepish smile and fingers dancing over the chipped ridge of the mug. There’s no pretending he wasn’t listening. “Sorry.”

 

Even without picking his head up from where he’s watching the frayed threads at the bottom of his sweatpants, Alec knows he’s being studied – there are careful and attentive eyes dancing across his face, over his chest and down to his fidgeting hands. Then, the clink of a fork set down, a quiet sigh, the scrape of wood against tile, a tender touch of warmth over Alec’s wrist. 

 

“You’re overthinking something, aren’t you?”

 

Alec lifts up his head, tangling their fingers together, absentmindedly running the pad of his thumb over the smooth polish covering Magnus’ nails. He fights a smile, his upper lip twitching.

 

“Is it that obvious?”

 

“You’re just easy to read sometimes.” Magnus shrugs, doesn’t push for the answer, instead just picks up his mugful of coffee and takes a large gulp, patient and understanding and too good for Alec.

 

Even if sometimes a question is bright and sharp at the edges, it’s hard to get it out, something keeping the air in his lungs. So instead of talking for a moment, Alec takes in the different jars lined along the shelves, watches raindrops race down the glass, focuses on the feel of Magnus’ skin against his. 

 

“Have you ever… um- you’ve lived for a long time, so have you thought about marriage? Have you ever wanted to get married?”

 

The saying goes – expect the unexpected; judging by the way Magnus’ eyebrows go up, that wasn’t a question he was ready for, his lips parted around silence before slowly shifting into a curious smile. He wets his lips before he speaks, fingers tightening their grip on Alec’s. “Of course I’ve wanted it. I thought, Camille and I, that it would be with her, but she quickly shut me down, cynical as always.” 

 

There’s a wrinkle between Magnus’ eyebrows, his faced pulled tight with memories and Alec shifts, stretches out his legs to let them hang off the counter at Magnus’ sides; _closer, closer,_ until he’s able to rest his forehead against Magnus’, who sighs from the bottom of his lungs. Things like these never come easy, even after decades.

 

“She told me marriage would just be a ball and chain at my feet. That I should just be free, because nobody will want to marry a warlock anyway.”

 

Alec doesn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes, as he lifts their hands closer, presses his coffee-warmed mouth against Magnus’ palms, over his knuckles to where the wedding ring usually sits.

 

“I want to.” 

 

At the words, Magnus pulls back, the expression on his face unreadable for a moment before he shakes his head minutely. It’s something Alec notices pretty early on – any show of affection, whether by words or actions, results in the subtle gesture of disbelief, as if it is new, as if Magnus has to get used to reverence again. It makes sense, in a way: to isolate himself from hurt and to sever the ties with his past is often to forget. 

 

Still, soon the initial surprise melts into a fond smile with a playful edge; Magnus keeps looking, eyes brighter than before. “Did you just propose to me, Alexander?”

 

The significance of Alec’s own words finally kicks in and a wave of warmth rushes out of his chest, reaching to color his cheeks and neck ruddy, not with embarrassment, but pleasure, a giddy spark deep in his heart. He’s not afraid anymore to reach for a happy ending. 

 

“If I did, would you say yes?” 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then it’s a promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> All kudos and comments are appreciated from the bottom of my lil' queer heart <3
> 
> You can find me on tumblr under 'maghnvsbane'


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